


On the relationship between a divinely blessed Hylian male and a modern Homo sapiens female

by SaniCarmander



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Action, Adventure, Difficult Relationship, Eventual Romance, F/M, Heartbreak, Multiverse, My First Fanfic, Soulmates, Termina - Freeform, Traveling, a little midlink in the offing, and a little Ilia/Zelda, badass OC, beth and colin also probably have a kid thing going on, scientist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 21:10:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14387187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaniCarmander/pseuds/SaniCarmander
Summary: Link has rescued an odd woman who was attacked by a gang of Bokoblins. She's injured and has nowhere else to go, so he takes her home. But what adventure will unfold when he discovers she has crossed worlds from a war-torn Termina? The Hero must embark on two quests: save Termina, and handle his attraction to his sassy, intelligent, and headstrong new housemate.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> The long title is a parody of peer-review journal article title formatting conventions.

               A couple more weeks with the Gorons on Death Mountain would have been nice. They were a friendly bunch ever since a human saved both their hides and the hides of everyone else in Hyrule, as they had told me. When I first crossed the border to Hyrule, I saw that towering volcano and my heart leapt at the thought of what wonderful geological specimens were just waiting to be studied. Having no itinerary in particular, why not hike the mountain? What surprised me was that the mountain was inhabited by Gorons; of course I had met Gorons before back in Termina, but I hadn’t realized they would inhabit this region as well.

               Although the geology was alluring as ever, and the hot springs certainly inviting to my aching feet and creaking joints, I was nevertheless reluctant when the Gorons invited me to stay for a few days, knowing their dietary preferences aren’t quite compatible with my own. But I quickly found that when a rock man twice your height and ten times your weight welcomes you with a hearty, “WELCOME, SISTER,” and insists that travelers ought to rest for a few days and enjoy the springs, it is very difficult to refuse.

               It ended up being a welcome break, however. I spent a week studying the potassium feldspar-rich rhyolite of the mountain and soaking in the hot springs. Sitting by a bonfire, they told me thrilling tales of both older legends and a newer hero who had recently saved Hyrule from an ancient demon king. Afterwards I was running out of rupees to pay for board, so I decided it was time to pack up my books, select one or two choice rock specimens to keep, and head down the mountain. Kakariko Village seemed quite charming, but if the Goron Lodge prices were too steep for my modest budget, then the Kakariko Hotel may as well be a castle in the air. I stopped by the local shop and pawned a few excess items off to the rather rude owner, Malo, and later encountered a wonderful shaman (Renado, I think?) from whom I was able to purchase medical supplies which I had depleted during my travels. I stopped by the Kakariko Graveyard, where a murder of crows eyed me with suspicion as a I paid my respects to the dead interred there.

               Passing by the spring the Gorons had told me housed one of Hyrule’s protective light spirits, I arrived onto a section of Hyrule field overlooking the Kakariko Gorge. Thank Farore I’ve never been remotely frightened of heights, or else I couldn’t have even begun to cross the bridge over that endless abyss. Instead I marveled starry-eyed at the geologic forces that could create such an awesome landscape. The fields were covered in short, soft grass over rolling hills punctuated with sudden cliffsides and boulders, recalling to me the moors surrounding my home in Clock Town.

               I hardly had time to grow sentimental, as at that moment I discovered the hard way that the fields are apparently inhabited by very large, ill-tempered birds of prey, one which decided at that moment to attack me. It swooped down and I defended myself with my right forearm, receiving three deep talon slashes for my efforts but saving my torso and face. I reached over my shoulder into my bag and quiver, quickly drawing my bow and shooting the infernal creature down. I could feel the warm blood running down the tanned skin of my forearm as I went to inspect the beast. It was clearly dead with that one shot, but my arrow was too bent for reuse. One look at it and I could tell the scrawny mass of feathers would be no good to eat, even if I did care to go through the hassle of processing it. I didn’t have the resources to skeletonize it and preserve the bones for study either… What a waste of ammunition. I sat down and pulled out my medicine pouch, where I thankfully still had antiseptic salve. I applied probably a bit less than I strictly should have on my forearm gashes, wanting to conserve my supplies. I wrapped the wound in bandages I had purchased from Renado. They were soft, comfortable, and pinned securely, much to my relief. Nothing adds insult to injury quite like loose and itchy bandages on an already painful wound.

               And then there was a screech. I turned and received a thankfully indirect blow across my right shoulder. I yelped in pain as I fell back and randomly hit out in the general direction of whatever had attacked me, disoriented and unable to see. I felt my fist make contact with something leathery and heard a thud. Refocusing my vision, I saw that my attacker was an ugly purple goblin creature wielding a heavy club, and that it was getting itself off the ground. As I reached into my belt I realized I had reacted too late; the ugly son of a bitch was already leaping toward me, club overhead poised to come down on my skull. Oh, I’m done for, and I’d rather not see this.

               SLASH. A spurt of blood splattered across my face. I opened my eyes, and saw the two severed halves of the goblin, and a tall man with a glowing sword standing over him, still in a finishing pose. But there was no time to get a good look at him; two more goblins were running towards us, club in hand. As the swordsman turned around to attack, I managed to pull my brother’s set of throwing knives out of my belt. One, two, three, they whizzed through the air and hit home in one of the goblin’s chest and stomach. I tried to push up with my arms onto my feet, but my injured shoulder gave and I fell, spinning on my left ankle and CRACK. Seriously?! I grit my teeth through the burning numbness and forced myself onto my feet, quickly stumbling toward the slain goblin and extracting my bloodied knives in order to continue the attack.

               As I scanned for the other enemy all I saw was another severed corpse and the swordsman standing over it. There was instant relief. “Are there any more of ‘em?” I asked. “Not nearby, I don’t think,” the man answered. “Great,” I sighed and collapsed face-down onto the ground. However bad I had already broken my ankle, I had just made it worse in my meaningless lunge for my knives. It was already pulsing and burning. “Now why did the sons of bitches just hafta attack me?” I asked. “Well they’re Bokoblins,” he answered in an amused voice, “That’s what they do.”

               I propped myself up on my elbows and looked up at the man’s face, and instantly locked my smokey topaz eyes with a pair of oblique, sapphire blue ones. No, they were too bright for sapphire. More like azurite. They were crystal clear, a little bit wild, and more beautiful than any rock or mineral I’d ever seen. I quivered a little as I examined the smiling face they belonged to. Delicate features, pointed nose, long pointy ears, and pink lips framed by unkempt dirty blond hair partially covered by a long, pointy, green hat. Two adorable golden side-locks hung down by his face. He looked like an elven prince fallen straight out of a fairy tale.

               I realized I had spent just a tad too long studying his beautiful face, and finally spoke. “Thank you so much. You just saved my hide.” I sat up and looked over at the two slashed Bokoblins and one stabbed Bokoblin, then looked back at him with a grin. “I reckon we’re two for one, huh?” He chuckled a little (oh, what a cute little laugh) and said “Yeah, I guess so,” as he reached his arm across my back to help me up. He grabbed my right shoulder and I flinched in pain. He withdrew his hand quickly, and with concern in his voice asked “Sorry, are you hurt?” “Yeah, that’s where the first one got me with that damn club.” I suddenly felt aware of the blood trickling down my back, and quickly pulled a plain handkerchief out of my pocket and began dabbing it up, awkwardly twisting my left arm behind me. I looked over and examined the man again. He was wearing a strange (but sexy) green tunic behind which peeked chain mail and a brown cloth undergarment. His legs were covered by khaki leggings and brown leather boots. It was extremely flattering on his built (but not bulky) figure, especially the leggings over his muscular thighs. He had put away the glowing sword in a sheath across his back, but I could see its attractive purple hilt. On his back he also carried a large metal shield.

    “Are ya hurt at all?” I asked him. I really hoped this beautiful person hadn’t gotten injured for my sake. “Not really. My arm got a little cut up by one of their claws.” “Oh no, lemme see it.” “It’s not that big a deal,” he mildly protested as I took his left arm and examined it, forcing him to sit down. “Nonsense, even a minor injury can turn serious if it gets infected, and those fellas don’t seem mighty keen on hygiene,” I said, and sure enough I spotted three deep gashes on his left forearm sprinkled with bits of dirt and Din knows what. I reached into my bag and pulled my bandages and salve out. “Hang tight, this is gonna sting like a bitch,” I warned as I poured the salve onto a rag and used it to dab out the grime in his wound. He jerked his arm a little as I did so. “Just a lil’ more, I’m ‘bout done,” I said in what I hoped was a reassuring tone, and finally finished cleaning it out. I took out some more bandages, wrapped the wound in the same way I had done my own, gave it a pat and looked up with a smile. “That’ll keep the dirt out of it!” “Thanks,” he smiled back. Oh, it was lovely, and I felt a little warm.

    “And now for m’self,” I said, and moved my left ankle to my front, took off my strappy brown sandal and stuffed it in my bag, and began examining my ankle where I suspected the fracture had occurred. “Did you hurt your ankle too?” he asked with worry. “Yeah, I tripped over m’self like a dumbass when I was tryin’ to get my knives back. I think I broke it,” I responded casually. “Well geez,” he exclaimed, “you should’ve taken care of that before my little cuts.” “Okay, well yer cuts were bleedin’ faster than my ankle was healin’,” I shot back hastily, maybe a bit testily. He looked a little stung and stayed quiet while I rummaged through my bag. “Oh crap, I ain’t got any splints,” I said, realizing I should have at least gathered some sturdy sticks while I was still in that weird forest. “Oh, no worries, I’ve got something,” he said brightly, pulling a sturdy, polished length of wood out of a small pouch hanging from his belt. “It’s repayment for the bandages.” “Thanks!” I said, and took the splint from him just a second before realizing he was intending to wrap my ankle for me. Damn my inability to perceive social cues at the right time; but I had already taken the splint. “I better feel it and see if I can find where it’s broken,” I said to gloss over the brief awkwardness. “Can you tell that just by looking at it?” he asked curiously, cocking his head to the side. “Not by lookin’, but by feelin’.” I responded as I began gently poking around my ankle, methodically applying focused points of pressure to every articulation from the distal phalanges to the tarsals, finally arriving at the calcaneus. I touched the lateral surface of my ankle, and instantly a hot pain shot up my leg. I inhaled sharply, and grunted “Yep, probably on the lateral malleolus, right where the talus can rub on it all day long. Great, fantastic. Probably won’t be able to get my ankle still enough to let it heal.”

    I looked up and saw that he had been standing over me curiously, watching. We made eye contact and I looked down. “Can you hand me a roll of the stiffer bandages from my bag?” I asked. “Yeah, sure,” he said quickly and began rummaging for them. I hoped he doesn’t shatter my hard-earned Dodongo vertebrae. I placed the splint against the lateral side of my ankle. Holding it in place with my left hand, I used my right to wrap the soft bandages just like my dad had showed me. Around the ball once, circle around the arch, diagonally underneath the toes and across the top, repeat until the foot is covered in one layer, pin to the side. “Is this it?” I heard him say. I looked over and saw him holding up a stiffer set of bandages woven from a tough synthetic material. “Yeah, perfect, toss ‘em over.” I caught them in my right arm and repeated the same motion I had done with the soft bandages, pinning them down and wiggling the splint to make sure it would stay in place.

    “My name’s Link!” I heard out of the blue. I looked up startled to see the swordsman facing me with a grin, his left hand extended. “Uh, hi, my name’s Sibela.” I replied, still a little caught off guard, but nonetheless I took his hand and shook it. His leather gauntlets were soft and worn. “Nice to meet you, Sibela. Sorry you got attacked.” he answered in a friendly tone. “Meh, it happens. Lucky I wasn’t hurt worse,” I responded casually, “I reckon it’ll be a pain hobbling to a nice cave. Do you know a good place to sleep around here? I’d hate to be caught out here one-legged.” “Well if you cross the gorge here and turn north in the next field you’ll eventually get to Castle Town, and they’ve got plenty of nice inns…” he began, before I involuntarily let out a snort and interrupted. “Urban centers are a bit out of my budget right now. I’m asking for a sheltered cave or hollowed out tree, preferably one without monsters.” Link’s azurite eyes pierced me with an expression of shock. “No way you’re going to spend the night in the field! Even the caves have Skulltulas and Keese in them, and with you already injured…” I cut him off again, knowing what he said made sense but still not liking having my toughness questioned, “Alright wise guy, then what are my other options? I reckon I’m still capable of takin’ out a few small fry if I need to.” He furrowed his brow and locked eyes with me again. Why did he keep doing that? As my heart sped up, I felt compelled to look away.

    I heard him kick around the ground a little bit, and after a few tense seconds he spoke. “Well…” he began. I looked up and saw that his brow was still furrowed, but now he was looking down and had his hand on his chin, as if thinking hard about something. “Why don’t you stay at my place?”

    “What?” That wasn’t what I had expected. He continued, “It’s a little way away, down in the Ordona Province, but I can just call my horse and she’ll have us over there before nightfall. I only have one room if you don’t count the basement, but there’s a bed and a couch. Plenty of space for both of us.” He looked up and seemed to study my dumbfounded expression. “I mean I guess I understand if you don’t like the idea of some strange guy taking you home. I wouldn’t mind putting you up somewhere in Castle Town, but I already spent my wages from last month. I, uh…” He looked away. Was that pink on his cheeks?

    “No no no no, it’s not that, I just…” I looked up and we made eye contact. Again. I was flustered. He looked apprehensive. I took a deep breath. “I’ve been wanderin’ about for a while, sleepin’ outside most nights and the whole business. This is the first time anyone has offered me a place to stay. You just saved my life, and now yer offerin’ to let me stay at your house.” I paused, and added, “You must be a real kind person.” There was no doubting it; his cheeks were definitely pink. “Well… I mean my place is free. I don’t think I should leave you out here,” he said quietly. I looked at him and grinned. “Well I accept, but only for tonight. I don’t wanna inconvenience you further than that. Now, what’s this about a horse?”

    LInk’s face split open into a glowing grin. “Hold on, watch this.” He walked over to a patch of weeds ( _Typha_ , perhaps?) with horseshoe-shaped racemes, and plucked one. He held it to his mouth and blew, and it produced a surprisingly loud but clear whistle. He whistled a sweet, simple tune… a summoning? Sure enough, not two seconds had passed before I heard hooves, and galloping from the west came a beautiful, chestnut body draft horse with a white mane. She came to a halt next to her master, who was clearly just as happy to see her as she was to see him. She whinnied and nosed Link’s face, and he giggled and pat her shoulders “Easy, Epona.” He turned towards me with an expression of wild happiness. “This is Epona. She always comes when she hears her favorite song,” he said and rubbed her neck again, “She’s a little energetic, but she’s as reliable as they come.” I laughed, managed to push myself off the ground, and struggled to walk normally toward her. I was unable to take my eyes off her glowing coat and bright eyes as I said “Nice to meetcha Epona! My name is Sibela. I hope you don’t mind givin’ me a lift.” I had sorely missed my own horse since I left home, and Epona was just the sort of equid that made you instantly want to give them a sugar cube and a hug around the neck. I did indeed stroke her mane and silky smooth coat. Oh, have you ever felt the satin neck of a horse who probably got a bowl of oats and a shampoo at least once a week? Nothing else is so soft and luxurious, and Epona’s neck was just like that.

    I looked over at Link, who was observing me giving Epona affection with a satisfied grin. “She’s just beautiful,” I gushed. He grinned wider and said “Yes, but she doesn’t like to go slower than a canter. Have you ridden before?” But I had already put my good ankle in the stirrup. I swung my other leg over and sat comfortably in the back of the saddle with my back straight and ankles out. This was bliss. How long had it been since I had gotten in a saddle? I looked down at Link’s unreadable expression, and a concerning thought occurred to me. “Sorry, were you supposed to get on first?” I asked with worry. I had never ridden with two people to one horse. He shook himself and said “No, this is fine. I was just thinking that you mount really well.” You could have fried an egg on my face, but I don’t think he saw it because not a second later he too was on the saddle, sitting in front of me with crop in one hand and reins in the other.

    He looked over his shoulder at me and said, “Mind you, she’s leg-trained so you’ll have to keep your heels off of her.” I thought to myself,  _Umm, so how am I supposed to stay on if I can’t grip with my legs?_  That question was answered for me a second later when he dug his heels in and Epona was instantly off at a canter. I was forced to fling my arms around his waist and hold my head inches behind his left shoulder. It was hard to resist the urge to rest my head against Link’s back. I tried not to squeeze his firm body too tightly as Epona’s pace steadied. Her gait certainly wasn’t as smooth as the that of the Tennessee walking horses I was used to riding, but even so it was hard not to enjoy that rocking horse motion characteristic of a canter. As I tried to focus on keeping my heels out and my grip firm but comfortable, something stirred in my mind.

    “You said your name was Link, right?” I half-shouted in his gracefully pointed ear. He turned his head around slightly, and said, “Yes, and your name is Sibela, right?” “Yes,” I replied. Link… Link… Where had I heard that before? The glowing sword, the green outfit… then it clicked. “Holy Nayru, you mean like the Hero Link? The guy who fought back all them monsters and saved Hyrule ‘bout three years ago?!” This time I really yelled. He turned his head again, showing a slight grin. “Yes, but nowadays I’m just a goatherd,” he replied.

    I was stunned. He wasn’t an elven prince, but he was about as close as it gets.


	2. Materials and Methods

                We didn’t speak much for the rest of the ride to Link’s home. It wasn’t just Epona’s blistering pace or the dull ache that was settling in over most of my body that was making my head whirl; I was having difficulty processing everything that had just happened. So, I get attacked by a mob of strange creatures, and I just happened to get saved by Hyrule’s (and probably the world’s, now that I thought about it) own hero. And he’s gorgeous to boot. Next thing I know Link’s inviting me to stay at his house, and now I’m clinging onto him as he whisks me to safety and shelter on his magnificent steed. It was just too much. I’m just a wandering scholar for Din’s sake, a homeless traveler with nothing but the clothes on my back and a bag full of books, bones, and rocks. What the heck was happening?

               Epona rode with her ears attentively turned towards Link, and upon his command veered south towards a crevice in the rocks. She slowed to a flatwalk as we entered a thickly wooded area with a narrow trail. We arrived into a small clearing where we passed a small hut. A skinny, afroed man sat in the yard next to a cauldron. Link gave him a friendly wave, to which the man responded with his own cheery “Evening, Link!” We continued past the hut and took a left, travelling further south by a sparkling spring, crossing a bridge over a massive river-cut gorge, and passed yet another spring. We finally arrived into a larger clearing with clear signs of long-term occupation.

               It was shaped vaguely like a three-leaf clover and likewise seemed to glow green with moss and vegetation. Following the unusual geomorphology of the rest of Hyrule, the area was enclosed by a naturally terraced rock wall overgrown with vines and grass.  In one of the clover leaves, small patches of lily of the valley were in bloom around a semicircle of fir trees hung with archery targets. A lonely scarecrow scarred with rips and tears stood in the untilled alcove. In the leaf to its left stood the remains of what must have once been a true giant of a mossy tree. The fifty-foot-tall stump was wide enough that at least four elephants could stand around it trunk to tail. I noticed that the tree must have been forked near the base; the smaller fork had been cut to about ten feet from the ground, creating a broad, flat surface, atop of which stood a small, one story hut with a wooden roof and rough, bark-covered sides draped with ivy. In front of the house was a short wooden post, from which hung a decorative sign outlined with wood carved in the shape of a horseshoe: “Link’s House,” it simply read. A sturdy wooden ladder was fixed to the stump. So, Hyrule’s hero lives in a treehouse.

               Epona slowed to a halt at Link’s command. Link swiftly and effortlessly dismounted, and turned back toward Epona. I gingerly placed my good ankle in the right stirrup, and rather stiffly swung my other leg over. If I may say so, having a hard saddle repeatedly slam into one’s ischial tuberosities for an hour makes for a sore vagina. As I was figuring out how to hop down onto my good leg while it was still hung in the stirrup, Link offered me his arm. “Let me help you,” he offered with a smile, piercing me again with those azurite eyes. “Yeah, thanks,” I grunted, and took hold of his arm to use it as a support while I let myself out of Epona’s stirrup. It was strong and muscular, and didn’t budge an inch as I put my 110 pounds of body mass on it and hopped down.

               I let go of Link and tried to steady myself on my feet, putting all my weight onto my right leg. I examined Link’s profile as he undid Epona’s girth and removed her saddle and saddle pad, revealing a dark patch of sweat-soaked horse’s back. Epona snorted softly as Link rubbed her neck and murmured, “Thanks girl, thanks a lot,” with a touchingly tender look in his eyes. I felt my own expression soften; he really did love that horse.

               He gave Epona one last pat, turned back towards me with a satisfied grin on his face, and said “Well, shall we go inside?” “Hold on,” I responded, eying Epona as she began to leisurely walk towards the path we had just come from, “aren’t you gonna tie her up anywhere?” Link looked a little bewildered. “Err, no, I just let her wander as she likes. I know she’ll always come when I call her.” He paused. “If you’re worried about her feet, she refuses to let me groom her or pick her hooves until she gets a drink from that spring we just passed,” he said with a smile. Now that was weird; I guess Epona is half-wild? I’d never heard of a horse allowed to roam free with no stable or pasture. I asked, “But aren’t you worried someone’ll try to steal her?” At this Link actually snorted and shook his head, saying “Yeah, right. I can just imagine how Epona would react to that.” Weird. Well, I was in Ordona now, and who am I to judge how people do things here?

               I turned and started to walk towards the treehouse. I put my good foot down and started to toe off with my left foot when another bolt of pain shot up my leg and I started to trip. Almost instantly I felt one of Link’s strong hands close around my left arm and another catch my waist, breaking my fall. I jerked my head over my left shoulder and almost bumped noses with Link, causing me to recoil my head a little bit. Still holding onto me, Link stared intensely into my eyes, but nonetheless spoke gently, “Maybe you should let me help you.” I felt slightly embarrassed and looked away; why did I feel unable to hold his stare? “Yeah, I reckon so,” I grumbled. Now I felt a little ashamed; why was I getting annoyed at him for being so nice to me?

               But when I glanced back over at him I saw a small smile flit across his face before he placed his right arm securely across my back and under my right shoulder, carefully avoiding the wound I had sustained there. He was too tall for me to put my arm over his broad shoulders, so I held onto his waist near what I guessed were his 7th-9th ribs. Like lackadaisical contestants in a 3-legged race, he led me toward the ladder. When we were about a meter away my heart sped up; I wasn’t going to let this become an issue too. I pushed away from Link and grabbed onto the firm wooden sidings with both hands. I then pulled the rest of my body up until my good foot rested on the lowest rung, allowing my left leg to dangle freely. Reaching up higher with one hand then another, I pulled myself up to the next rung, repeating the process for a few more steps. I must have been showing off to some extent, because I couldn’t help but glance over and down at Link, who I saw standing with his hands resting on his hips and one eyebrow raised over another, his expression otherwise unreadable. Our eyes briefly met and I quickly turned back around, focusing intently on ignoring the pulsing in my right shoulder and continuing the climb up the ladder. I heard Link let out a sound that sounded remarkably like a stifled snort. That pissed me off, and I felt my face flush with anger and embarrassment. Did I really look that ridiculous? My shoulder and ankle were killing me, just so you know!

               When I felt my cheeks burn like that I knew I was redder than a beet, so I refused to look at Link even when I reached the last rung, clambered onto the stump, and held onto the doorframe of the house as I pulled myself into a lopsided standing position. I pretended to be studying the architecture intently as I heard what was clearly an easy climb, and as I felt my cheeks cool I turned around to see Link standing behind me and wearing an amused grin. Over his shoulder I could see the sun already sinking into a glowing citrus sunset. “Welcome to my house,” he said cheerfully, “Like I said, it’s a bit small, but it should be comfortable enough for the night.” He deposited Epona’s saddle, girth, and saddle pad on the stump before he walked past me and opened the door, which he apparently had secured no better than his horse.

               My first impression of the single-room interior was that it was a bachelor’s pad. It wasn’t dirty per se, but the thin coat of dust on the furniture and old wooden floor, and the random possessions placed haphazardly about were clearly indicative of a resident who didn’t have to answer to anyone if they skipped a few chores. To the left of the door of the rectangular room was a sturdy wooden counter atop of which stood a large wooden tub of water and jars containing various kitchen implements. Over the counter hung a collection of cast iron pots and pans that were a little worn but clearly seasoned properly. Beside the counter was a cute old-fashioned iron stove with an oven. Beside the oven but more toward the middle of the room was a small wooden table with four chairs and a few lily-of-the-valley placed in a small glass vase as a simple centerpiece. Behind this there was a small alcove containing only a stairwell leading down into what I assumed was a basement. On the wall opposite the door was a well-worn beige couch with a large, thick woven blanket depicting a wolf rearing its head in howl thrown over the back. The wall next to the couch was made of stone, as it was occupied by an old fireplace in which a large cast iron pot stood over the ashy remains of partially burned logs. To the right of the fireplace was a wooden desk littered with stationary and piled high with clay vessels, over which hung an old sienna tapestry and two small pictures depicting landscapes. Next to the desk and to the immediate right of the door was a ladder (oh dear, not another one) that led up to a lofted bed, about the size of a four-poster, with a faded red and blue quilt halfway hanging off and two off-color pillows with bits of down poking out piled in the corner, a pointy-eared head impression clearly visible in one of them. Underneath the bed was a lonely bookshelf housing only a few sad volumes. All along the walls were mounted various tools ranging from a pitchfork to a dilapidated wooden shield. Seemingly tucked in every corner were crates and barrels containing who-knows-what. Overall, I’d call Link’s house messy, cozy, and charming.

               As he led me further inside he took my enormous bag and said “I’ll go ahead and put this up in the loft. You can take the bed tonight, and I’ll take the couch,” and he started toward the loft. I raised an eyebrow and touched his arm. “Umm,” I started. He turned back toward me with a questioning look in his eyes. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think I should be climbin’ up there on this ankle…” I said shyly. His eyes widened in comprehension. “Oh duh, sorry. I should have thought about that.” He grinned and put his arm across my back as if to walk me again. “Well, to the couch then!” he said cheerfully, and guided me over to the couch where he put my bag down. I let go and sat down, immediately sinking into the old cushioning.

    Rather than sit next to me, Link walked over to the shelf below the loft where he placed his boots. He took his shield and then his sword off his back and likewise set them down, finally removing his long green cap to expose a messy tangle of dirty blond hair. I couldn’t help but study his charming figure as he walked toward the kitchenette. He looked over at me with the same cheery expression and said “I don’t know about you, but I’m about to starve!” Just then my stomach let out an enormous rumble. When was the last time I ate? I think I might have had something for breakfast yesterday morning? I grinned back and said, “Yeah, I reckon it’s ‘bout that time.” Link began rummaging through the cabinets below the counter, and said “I don’t have a whole lot because I wasn’t really expecting guests. Just simple fare tonight, if that’s okay.” “Whatever you got’s fine with me,” I replied as I reclined across the couch, propping my now extremely swollen ankle up. Normally I wouldn’t want to act so comfortable in a stranger’s house, but I knew I really ought to keep that fracture elevated.

    Link happily hummed as he began pulling out a smorgasbord of salted pork, two apples, a loaf of bread, creamy butter, and a block of cheese and setting the items on the table. He looked over at me with his azurite eyes seeming to dance in delight as he called out “Bon appetit!” Oh boy, a buffet. I was reluctant to get up from the squishy couch I had just got comfortable on, but my aching stomach spurred me on as I pushed myself up and limp-hopped over to the table. Link had taken his gauntlets off, for some reason hung them up with his cast iron pots and pans, and washed his hands in the bucket of water on the counter. Following his lead, I used the table as a support as I made my way over to the bucket, where I ran my hands once over a large block of soap before dipping them in the water and scrubbing. Link had already sat down at the table and was happily tearing into a large piece of salted pork. I flicked some of the water off my hands and wiped the remaining moisture on my pants before turning around and taking the nearest seat, which happened to be right next to the feasting Link. As I sat down he looked up at me and grinned behind a slice of buttered bread.

    He put the bread down and finished swallowing before saying sheepishly, “Sorry I don’t have any plates or silverware. I kind of forgot to wash them after breakfast this morning.” I looked over at the counter and saw a small pile of dirty dishes. Looking back at him I smiled and said “No worries. Just glad to have dinner, and at least you washed your hands.” I helped myself to an apple, and before I remembered my table manners was tearing into it like an emaciated wolf. I was ravenous, and we continued eating in silence for at least 10 minutes, easily working our way through three quarters of the spread. As his eating slowed to a more respectable pace while I continued to devour my food as if expecting it to run away, Link inquired, “Do you not usually eat dinner?” Well, isn’t he direct. I replied shortly, “Nope. Comes with travelin’,” and continued stuffing my face. Damn right I was hungry, and at that moment I didn’t particularly care about making a good impression. Link was quiet for a moment as he cut a slice of cheese with what was evidently the only clean silverware in the house, but then asked “So where are you traveling?” Again, I replied shortly, “Nowhere really. Just wanderin’ about.” “Not much to tell really,” I added. Sure, there was more to it than that, but there’s no need to tell my life story to some random guy who’s just putting me up for the night, now is there? He glanced up at me, apparently not satisfied with that explanation, but didn’t push for more information. Instead he said, “Oh shoot, I forgot the drinks,” and walked over to the cabinets again, this time pulling out a large bottle of frothy white milk that he distributed into two small jars. He brought these back to the table, setting one down in front of me and another at his own seat. The salted pork had dried out my mouth, so I reached for the jar and took a sip. I was immediately put off by the strong flavor, and almost spat it out before noticing that it nonetheless had a rich, creamy quality to it. Link giggled and said, “Sorry, I should have warned you. That’s goat’s milk. It can be a bit strong if you’re not used to it.” I stared him down and proceeded to drain half the jar before firmly setting it down. “Delicious,” I said simply, eying him with a playful half-smile. Link chuckled again and said, “Sorry, I won’t be impressed until you take it straight from the teat.” At this I snorted into the sip of frothy milk I was midway through, spraying it onto the table and inside the jar, and splattering it all over my face and somehow under my glasses. Link broke into a roaring laugh as I blinked the milk out my eyelashes and otherwise sat frozen. Suddenly I realized exactly how comical I must look, and I broke into a giggle that turned into the first good laugh I had had for longer than I cared to remember.

    As our laughter subsided, Link got up once again to retrieve a towel from over the counter and tossed it over to me. I continued to giggle as I dabbed the remaining milk off my face and then the table. I looked up and made eye contact with Link again, this time causing us both to burst into a fresh fit of giggles. I put my hand over my face and wheezed through my laughter, “Wow, that’s just embarrassing.” Link playfully replied, “Yeah, seriously. What are you anyway, a 10-year-old?” I continued grinning as I said, “Actually I just turned 22.” He leaned forward in interest and responded “Really? I also just turned 22. When’s your birthday?” “April 15th,” I said as I helped myself to a slice of bread. He looked surprised and exclaimed “No kidding! That’s also my birthday.” I looked up at him with vague disbelief, and he excitedly said “No really. Look.” He gestured towards a calendar I now saw hanging over his desk. Sure enough, the date April 15th was stamped with a star and a scrawl reading “My birthday!” This guy really was as giddy as a child.

    “Well ain’t that somethin’,” I said as I finally stopped eating and leaned back in my chair. A sense of satisfied drowsiness was already setting in. Link stood up and put away what little was left of the food: a depleted lump of butter and two bits of pork. He then walked over to his desk and pulled a small metal hoof-pick, a soft bristle brush, and a stiffer wire brush out of one of the many jars. He looked over at me with a bright smile and said “Epona should be ready to let me groom her by now. I’ll be back in a bit.” I watched him with one eyebrow raised as he turned on his heel and ambled out the door, humming again.

    Now that he was gone, I let out a satisfied belch and slumped down in my chair. Was Link always this carefree? I guess I had expected the hero of Hyrule to be more stoic. Maybe he was just in a really good mood today. Either way, what a guy. In just the past few hours he saved my life, invited me to his cozy home, and treated me to the biggest meal I had eaten probably since I left Clock Town. A sense of guilt settled over me as I realized that there was nothing I could do to repay him for the kindness he had shown me. The best thing I could do was get out of his hair as soon as possible. I gloomily stared up at the counter, and then I felt an old itch settle in. It was the dishes. I hated seeing dirty dishes left out.

    I stood up on my good leg and steadied myself against the table before limping over to the counter. Although according to Link the dishes had only been left out since this morning, food particles were already dried onto the many plates, forks, and jars. A cast iron skillet was sitting with a layer of grease congealed on the bottom. I peered into a pot behind the water bucket and saw what I was looking for: a bundle of rags, a towel, and a small bar of soap. I didn’t see any other water source, so I dunked the dishes one by one into the bucket, rubbed some soap on them, scrubbed vigorously until all the food particles were gone, dunked them again to rinse the soap off, then set them down on the towel to dry. When I arrived at the cast iron skillet, a quick sniff told me it was bacon grease pooled at the bottom. I glanced around for a very essential vessel that Link didn’t seem to have. Well, that problem could be solved easily. I opened the cabinet and found a large empty jar, which I set on the counter. I then picked up the heavy iron skillet and carefully poured the viscous grease through my fingers and into the jar, until nothing but bacon crumbs remained. Sure, my hand may not be the best strainer, but it was better than nothing. I dipped my hand into the water bucket, rinsing off the debris. I grabbed a clean rag and used it to gently wipe the remaining grease out of the skillet until only a silhouette remained. I hung the skillet on a hook over the counter and washed my hands in the now dirty dishwater. Grimacing as I wiped my hands on my pants, I glanced around in search of clean water. Apparently this one bucket was it. I glanced down at it again, and felt mildly disgusted as I saw the flecks of food particles floating about in it. It really needed to be thrown out, but I didn’t think I’d be able to carry that heavy bucket on my broken ankle.

    “Hell with it,” I muttered under my breath as I turned away from the counter. The toll of an exhausting day ending with a huge meal was beginning to set in, and I could tell I wasn’t going to be awake much longer. I looked down and noticed that the table was still covered in crumbs from dinner. I sure wasn’t going to use that nasty dishwater on it, so I used a dry rag to sweep the majority of the mess into my cupped hand. Not seeing a waste receptacle, I tossed the debris into the water bucket. At that point, I really was beginning to drop off while standing. I tottered towards the couch feeling my eyes itch and head nod. I collapsed onto the soft cushioning and pulled the wolf blanket off the back of the couch and over my stretched-out form. “It’s been one hell of a day,” I muttered, and was out like a light.

 

    ******

 

    “It’s been one hell of day, hasn’t it girl?” Link sighed to Epona as he began picking the clumped dirt out of her front left hoof. Epona only snorted in reply as he carefully dug around the frog. Now that he was no longer having fun entertaining his new guest, a troubling thought had occurred to him. “I mean I know she said she’d only stay for the night, but it’s not like her ankle is going to feel any better by tomorrow. If she gets back to travelling right away, I may as well have just left her in the field in the first place.” Epona seemed to be listening intently with both pinna directed towards her master as he spoke. Link finished her hoof and stood up. He pat her neck and continued, “I wonder why she’s wandering around by herself like that. She at least had weapons on her, and she doesn’t exactly strike me as a wimp, but she looks pretty underfed. You should have seen the way she dug into dinner tonight! I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so hungry.” Link bent down on one knee and picked up Epona’s other front hoof. “And did you feel her bag? It has to weigh at least 40 pounds. And when I went to get her bandages for her, it was just full of books and for some reason rocks. The only supplies I saw were a medicine pouch and a little quiver and bow.” He paused, and when he spoke again his voice softened. “And that look in her eyes too. It’s like they were on fire, but behind that, she looked so tired. Tired like someone truly driven into the ground. Like someone who would gladly drop dead just to end it at all, but for some reason feels compelled to keep moving forward. But towards what, I wonder?” He finished the hoof and stood up again, glad he had already cleaned her back hooves. “Whatever it is, she’s not going very far on that ankle.” He shook his head in concern. Epona was already wading back into the spring. It was peaceful and beautiful, and Link couldn’t help but appreciate the way the moonlight danced off the ripples. He followed his beloved horse into the water, glad he had come barefoot as he enjoyed the sensation of the cool water and fine sand moving about his feet and ankles. He took the soft-bristled brush out of his pocket and began brushing the dirt out of Epona’s coat. “I need to convince her to at least stay until her ankle heals. But she strikes me as someone who doesn’t exactly appreciate being told what to do or having others make decisions for her. How am I supposed to persuade her then? I can’t very well let her leave and get herself killed.”

    “Indeed you cannot,” a deep, ethereal voice resounded, startling both Link and Epona, who laid her ears back. Link looked towards the waterfalls in the back of the spring where he thought the voice originated from. There, gold flecks of light began to materialize and gather over the water, taking the shape of a massive animal resembling a goat. Its shining white body was patterned with intricate curls of gold, and its horns formed a circlet in which hung a glowing sphere of light. It was the light spirit of the Ordona Province.

    “Ordona!” Link breathed with evident surprise and respect. “Greetings, O Hero Chosen by the Gods. It seems you have met with a most unusual traveler,” Ordona replied, its low voice reverberating through the spring. “Yes, and she’s injured,” Link responded, unsure how Sibela could be unusual in a way that would concern a light spirit. “It troubles you deeply,” Ordona observed. Link paused; he hadn’t consciously registered that he was indeed concerned for Sibela, perhaps more so than he would have been for any other injured person. “It does,” he finally replied, and feeling a sudden boldness looked up into Ordona’s noble face and said, “But does it trouble you as well?”

    Ordona sighed, “Indeed. Sibela’s appearance here is... unsettling.” “What do you mean?” Link asked quickly, “She isn’t… bad, is she?” “Nay, o Hero. I sense no evil in her,” Ordona rumbled, “As I said, it is her  _appearance_  here that is unsettling.” Link blankly stared at the glowing being. Ordona seemed to sigh again as they said, “Hero Chosen by the Gods, allow me to impart to ye yet another ancient legend of the legendary hero whom thou incarnate.” Link leaned forward with interest and a hint of confusion: what did the legendary hero have to do with Sibela?

    Ordona began, “As thou hast learnt, the legendary hero once travelled the flowing river of time, carrying the destiny of not only our world, but the land of the gods, which had become tainted by Ganon’s evil heart. The hero defeated the monstrous Ganon, whom was then sealed in the Sacred Realm by the power of the seven sages of old. Having fulfilled this destiny, the hero was returned to his original time. Knowing that even with the future secured, the Ganon of this time would undoubtedly pursue the sacred power of the Triforce, the legendary hero travelled to faraway lands where the mark of the Triforce of Courage would be unrecognized…”

    “The hero eventually wandered to a mysterious forest known by precious few… It is within this forest that even time and space unravel, forging a connection with a world parallel to our own-” “The Twilight?!” Link blurted out. “Nay. This world is a land of light and prosperity. It is known as Termina.” “Ah,” Link blushed in embarrassment. Ordona continued, “At the time that the legendary hero arrived, Termina was in grave peril, threatened by its own wicked forces. Needless to say, the hero employed his skills to save this land in its time of need. The ancient evil was defeated but not destroyed, sealed by a fierce deity inhabiting the body the of hero… Meanwhile, the protective spirits of both lands had become aware of the connection between Termina and Hyrule. Each side agreeing that they could not risk the evils of their worlds escaping between dimensions, they closed the connection such that the two lands would never interact again…” Ordona paused, and Link leaned in once more, intent on hearing what this tale had to do with his guest.

    Finally, Ordona spoke. “The woods which once were the portal to Termina still exist at the edge of Faron. Several weeks ago, a disoriented, distressed young woman appeared in those woods, and began travelling north.” “Do you mean…?” Link exclaimed in shock. “Yes,” Ordon said somberly, “It appears that the portal to Termina has been reopened, and it is from that long-forgotten land that Sibela hails.” Link was amazed. He was hosting a guest from another world. But noticing that Ordona seemed less than pleased, Link asked, “So why is this unsettling?” Ordona replied, “It has come to our attention that Termina is once again in turmoil, threatened by an evil power. The fact that Sibela was able to wander into Hyrule suggests the possibility that this evil could do the same.” Link’s face dropped as he realized the gravity of Hyrule’s connection to Termina. Moreover, he felt a wave of concern as he registered that Sibela must have been fleeing from the force threatening her land. He was reminded vividly of the disembodied spirits of Hyrule’s people floating in the Twilight… An old determination rose in his heart as he turned to Ordona. “So, I must find a way to destroy the evil in Termina and seal the connection?” “Indeed,” Ordona replied, “That would be in keeping with the hero’s call. But at present there remains a question of how…” Link raised his eyebrows. “For now, it is imperative that thou keep Sibela safe. Thou must not suffer her to leave your protection. She is a connection between two worlds meant to be forever separated, and much of the nature of this connection is yet unknown. Return home, Link. Tomorrow, you mustn’t allow her to leave. Do you understand your task?”

    Link nodded resolutely, “Yes, Ordona.” He immediately turned to leave, and had almost left the spring when Ordona called out, “One more word, Hero Chosen by the Gods.” Link looked back at the luminescent spirit. “It is unlikely that Sibela is aware that she has crossed worlds. I would consider it unwise to distress her by imparting this knowledge before she is prepared, or discovers it on her own. Thou must use great discretion.” Link nodded and replied, “I understand.” He turned back again sat off towards his house at a jog, head reeling with what he had just learned.

 

    *****

 

    When Link rushedly entered the house, he was put off by the total darkness of the place. A wave of panic swept over him; had Sibela already left, just as Ordona instructed him to protect her? He fumbled in his bag for his old lantern, eventually pulling it out and lighting it. As a warm glow washed over the room, he saw a figure snuggled in his favorite blanket sound asleep on the couch. Relief filled him quickly, and he smiled and tiptoed further into the room, placing his lantern on the kitchen table. He was surprised not to see the ghosts of dinners past sprinkled over the surface. Likewise, he noticed on the counter his gleaming dishes drying over a towel, and his seasoned skillet hanging up. He felt a warmth in his chest; Sibela must have cleaned up after he left. He saw the bucket of dirty water on the counter, and realized she probably wasn’t able to throw it out. He promptly picked up the bucket, stepped outside, and dumped the contents over the edge of the tree stump. Deciding he would refill it in the morning, he returned the bucket to the counter and resisted the urge to hum as the glowing feeling in his chest persisted.

    He found himself walking towards the couch. A person from another world, a person whose safety he had been entrusted with… He leaned over her and examined the peacefully sleeping young woman. He subconsciously clutched at his chest as he felt his heart flutter faintly… It confused him for a moment, but he was quickly distracted when he noticed that Sibela had fallen asleep without a pillow and her glasses askew. He hurried over to his loft and climbed up the ladder just far enough to snatch down one of his old down pillows. He picked out a few of the feathers poking through the pillowcase as he returned to the couch and squatted down. “Hylia, please don’t wake her up…” he found himself praying as he gently wove his left hand through her long umber hair while reaching for the back of her neck. Her hair was dirty without a doubt, but Link nonetheless felt another flutter in his chest, this time accompanied by a slight stabbing sensation as he felt the soft locks slip over his hands. He felt very conscious of his own breathing as he slowly lifted her head just high enough to slip the pillow underneath. He set her head back down just as gently. He lightly brushed the soft, smooth skin of her right cheek as he slowly removed his hand from behind her head, and with that touch came another stabbing sensation. Finally, he removed her wine red-framed glasses and folded them carefully before placing them on a crate beside the couch.

    He stood up and rubbed his eyes in confusion. So, what did he know about this woman? Sibela, age 22, same birthday as him, good at using throwing knives and mounting horses, has a lot of books, and is from another world. His head whirled as he walked over to his desk, where he pulled out a wooden toothbrush from a small, water-filled jar. He dabbed it in a tiny tin of homemade toothpaste and began brushing, perhaps a bit more vigorously than he normally would have, carefully cleansing each tooth and all of his tongue. He stuck his head out the door again and spat the minty foam onto the ground. As he replaced his toothbrush in the water jar he continued to mull over the strange events of that day and the future that may come from them. Glancing over to ensure that Sibela was still asleep, he undid his belt and removed first his green tunic, followed by the chain mail and brown undergarment, and finally his collared off-white base layer. Halfway through taking off his leggings, he paused. He usually slept in his underwear, but maybe he shouldn’t with a guest in the house… But he sure didn’t want to sleep in such tight clothing. Coming to a solution, he finished taking off his leggings before gathering his bundle of garments and depositing them in a trunk beside the bookshelf. From this same trunk he pulled out a comfortable pair of loose-fitting brown pants and slipped into them.

    He glanced back over at Sibela, still sound asleep, and smiled warmly before snuffing the lantern and climbing the ladder onto his loft. He collapsed onto the soft heather bedding and stretched before pulling his pillow beneath his head and wrapping himself up in the old quilt. At first, he found himself lying on his side staring down at Sibela, but as he felt his cheeks turn hot he rolled onto his back. He was confused with himself again. He felt that he had been acting weird and struggled to process the many new sensations he had experienced over the evening. What was happening? Besides his personal sentiments, what kind of unknown, strange adventure was about to unfold between Hyrule and Termina? He expected to lie awake late into the night pondering this, yet within a few minutes Link too was already in a deep sleep.


	3. Dawn of the First Day

               When I woke up early the next morning, the first thing I noticed was a lovely aroma. It was a scent I vaguely recognized, but couldn’t quite recollect. I rolled over towards the back of the couch and realized that a pillow had been placed beneath my head. When I began to snuggle in for a morning snooze, the redolence grew much stronger, and I suddenly recognized its slightly musty richness. What I was smelling was Link’s scent exuding from his pillow.

    My cheeks instantly flushed hotly and I became very conscious of my pounding heart, but those sensations vanished as I bolted upright, shaking myself. What in the hell…? I looked down at the pillow in surprise and confusion. Why on earth was I having such a strong response to the smell of a guy I met yesterday? I shook myself again and pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind.

    I was now fully awake after being assailed by that… sensory experience, and as per usual the first order of business was to pee. I let out a quiet groan as I realized that I hadn’t observed so much as a chamber pot within the house yesterday. I didn’t mind doing my business outside, but I dreaded another trip down the ladder and back up again. Could I possibly enlist Link’s help…? No. I glanced up to the loft, and even in the dim predawn light could tell by the rhythmic rise and fall of the quilt that Link was fast asleep. Oh well, I thought grumpily as I threw the blanket off and pushed myself into a standing position, wobbling as I tried to steady myself against the arm of the couch. I found my glasses on a crate beside the couch and shoved them on my face before half-hopping over to the table. I was able to push myself into a full standing position, still leaning heavily on my right side. But after a night of rest, the sharp pain in my ankle had subsided into a dull, aching stiffness. I longed to stretch it out and point my toe, but knew that I would sorely regret it if I did.

    The pressure in my bladder pulsed, reminding me of the urgency of my predicament. Taking a deep breath and steeling myself, I pushed away from the table to the wall, which I held onto as I limped around to the door. I opened it as quietly as I could, taking care to fully turn the knob before pulling it. The latch made only the faintest click as I stepped outside. I smiled blissfully and took in the still, cool air. The sky was still mostly dark, but a deep red glow on the eastern horizon cast the forest in a strange, dim shadow that seemed to affect the texture of the air itself. I inhaled deeply, taking the smell of soil and fresh organic matter laden with dew. The moments just before sunrise are a woefully unappreciated time.

    I awkwardly turned around and lowered myself onto the ladder, once again letting my left leg dangle freely as I scooted down. I stepped onto the forest floor and felt another flutter of joy as my foot contacted the squishy, cool moss. It was like stepping onto a memory foam mat. I leaned against the rough bark of the stump and moseyed around to the back, smiling at the small black beetles already hurrying about with their day’s business. I dropped my drawers and squatted, almost sighing aloud in relief as I did my own business.

    Crap, I didn’t bring anything to wipe with, and I don’t care who claims otherwise, drip-drying just doesn’t work well enough. I glanced around desperately and recognized a tree only feet away as a tulip poplar ( _Liriodendron tulipifera_ ). Relieved, I leaned forward and plucked a few of the soft, truncated leaves, whispering an apology to the young hardwood. Having completed the task at hand I pulled my pants back up and hobbled back over the ladder. Reach, pull, repeat, and clamber over onto the stump. I limped through the door, perhaps a bit more noisily than before. I leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor; even that short journey had exhausted me. I felt frustration fill me; really, how was I supposed to continue my journey today if just going to the bathroom was so difficult? I looked down forlornly at my bandaged ankle, and thought that maybe I should stay here a few more days after all… That would be the logical thing to do, but the idea stabbed at my pride, and honestly, I didn’t know how to ask Link to just let me freeload. Like “hey, I know you got scratched up fightin’ off those monsters, and I know I probably ate half your food stores last night, but can you let me crash here a bit longer anyways?” I put my head in my hands; I sounded stupid even in my thoughts. Then an idea popped into my head: I could at least make the guy breakfast  _(and maybe it’ll butter him up and he’ll let you stay? No Sibela, it’s just a thank you)_  before heading out.

    I pushed myself up once again and shuffled over the counter. Opening up one of the cabinets beneath I saw that it was packed full of jars. Peaking in them one by one, I realized that had found the long-term staple supplies. Flour, sugar, baking soda and powder (did Link bake?), oil, salt… Ideas were already forming in my head. I opened the neighboring cabinet containing all the fresh foods; eggs, milk, butter, vegetables, fruits… My eyes landed on a basket of blueberries, and I knew what I was going to make. Today was going to be a muffin day.

    I bubbled in glee as I pulled open another cabinet and saw a clean muffin pan on top of a neatly stacked pile of bakeware. Perfect. Trying not to bang stuff around too much (I tend to be pretty noisy), I pulled out the flour, sugar, salt, baking powder, oil, milk, blueberries, butter and an egg and set them on the counter. I knew that if I didn’t do this I’d be likely to find out an ingredient was missing halfway through the recipe. On the counter I noticed a spice rack, and grew excited, hoping there was a jar of cinnamon. Yes, there it was! I sampled a few grains of the fine powder and grinned as I tasted the spicy bark for the first time in what felt like forever.

    I scooted over to the wood oven, and was pleased to find the perfect sized pile of kindling already inside, complete with a dried grass tinder. Next to the oven was a pile of extra logs. On the counter I spied a worn flint and steel striker; hey, it was no butane torch, but it’ll do just fine. I tried and failed once, then twice, to produce sparks. On the third try I scraped as hard as I could, sending` sparks into the tinder which to my surprise caught nicely. I carefully observed the smoldering grass until I saw the kindle catch; success! I felt quite pleased with myself as I stumbled across the room to crack the small window near the fireplace. I saw another window in the alcove, I opened this one too and took a moment to enjoy the cross-ventilation. The dim light flooding the room turned a shade brighter as the horizon began to glow a pumpkin orange, and I heard Link turn over in his loft. Returning to the counter I began mixing the dry ingredients in one bowl and the wet in another. It wasn’t hard to find where Link kept his kitchen supplies, as they were actually organized quite well with all the mixing spoons in one jar, scrapers and whisks in another, etc. Now that I thought about it, the whole kitchenette was very well-equipped and cared for.

    I then combined the wet and dry mixtures in one bowl, humming a little as I mixed the batter until just lumpy. After debating a moment on whether I wanted to squish the blueberries a little, I settled on folding them in the batter whole, relishing the thought of finding isolated chunks of goodness in warm muffins. I picked up the lump of butter, and gently rubbed it over the muffin pan for greasing. I then used a spoon to evenly distribute the batter between the 12 cups. I dripped a little as always, but I just used one of the cleaner rags from last night to dab the batter from the top of the pan. I then took another bowl and rapidly whisked a mixture of sugar, butter, flour, and cinnamon until the confection formed a pleasant crumble. I sprinkled this topping all over the muffins and pressed it in lightly with a clean spoon. Looking over, I saw that the oven was ready, and gleefully slid the muffin pan onto the middle rack. Link stirred again.

    I stood, stretched, and smiled. I really had missed baking… Looking down, I noticed the state of my clothes from the day before. My loose capri pants had a new rip in one leg, and both it and my sleeveless orange blouse were smeared with dirt. And I had slept in them. I suddenly became aware of a sweaty sensation indicative of wearing the same pair of panties for too many days in a row. Feeling disgusted with myself, I made my way over to my bag and pulled out my other outfit. I looked up at Link to make sure he was still asleep; with the early morning light now filling the room in earnest, I could clearly see that he was comfortably stretched out on his back with one large foot poking out from beneath his quilt. His bandaged left arm was hanging off the loft, and his head was flopped to the side on his pillow, face towards me, his mouth slightly open and eyes closed. I blushed a little as it occurred to me that he was quite precious in his sleep.

    Turning away from him I slipped behind the couch into a small niche between two crates. Even if he was asleep now, I’d rather him not wake up to me changing. I hurriedly pulled on my fresh outfit, and grateful to have some clean clothes on, stepped back out. For the first time I caught sight of a full-length mirror next to the fireplace. How had I missed that before? It had been a while since I had seen myself, so I stepped in front of it.

    I rather liked the light denim overall shorts I was wearing over a sleeveless orange crop top. It exposed the smooth, tanned skin of my lower back and shoulders, which I’m privately a little vain of. My figure was a little slimmer than I liked it, making my clothes just a bit loose. I had probably lost about 25 pounds since I left Clock Town between eating inconsistent meals and walking miles with my heavy bag, clambering over countless different landscapes and battling a monster or two on the way. Nonetheless, my hips remained quite wide and my thighs well built. I examined the wound on my right shoulder, where I thankfully noted that although the skin was somewhat shorn the wound was shallow, now consisting mostly of a large bluish-purple bruise. Observing the bandages on my right arm and left ankle, I smirked and sarcastically thought to myself “Wow Sibela, such a badass.” But my grin slid off as I looked up at my face. There were deep circles under my intense brown eyes, and I had any number of miniscule scratches from my travels. My face had two long streaks of dirt on one cheek and my once baby-soft skin was greasy and weather-beaten. My wavy brunette hair, only just past my shoulders at the start of my journey, now fell almost to my waist and was a tangled, unkempt, oily mess. On the back I saw a rat’s nest where my head had rest against Link’s pillow. Although I had put on fresh clothes, I desperately needed a shower.

    For now, the least I could do was pull my hairbrush from my bag and gently comb out the knots and occasional pieces of grass. I brushed and worked at the rat’s nest, carefully starting at the ends to avoid pulling and breaking my hair, then running the brush from the root to the tips until it was, although still dirty, now sleek and untangled. I then split my hair into three sections, starting a braid at the base of my neck and nimbly continuing it for only a few inches before using a scrappy strip of burlap cloth to tie it off, letting most of my hair hang in a ponytail. As much as I enjoyed the aesthetic of long hair, it felt nice to have it out of the way. I looked to my right at Link’s desk and my heart leapt when I saw a jar of water with a toothbrush sticking out and an open container of toothpaste. I could brush my teeth! I hurried as quickly as I could to my bag to pull out my own wooden toothbrush before returning to the desk. I dipped my toothbrush first in the water and then the paste before scrubbing my teeth with vigor and joy. Oh, this was nice. I stuck my head out the window and spat out the foam, noticing that the sky was now yellow and the glowing sun was half risen over the horizon.

    Having completed my toiletries, I moseyed back over to the counter where I had left a mess of dishes. The muffins still had another 10 minutes or so on them before they finished, so I threw another log in the oven and occupied myself by putting away the items I had washed the previous night and the muffin ingredients, leaving only the newly dirtied kitchenware out. I stacked the three mixing bowls, two spoons, whisk, and measuring cup neatly next to the bucket for now, thinking that I could have Link show me where to get more water when he woke up. Doing a double-take at the bucket, I realized Link must have thrown out the dirty water from the night before. Great; now I didn’t have to look at it.

    By this point the heavenly aroma of baking pastries had filled the room, and with a slight panic I realized that I hadn’t found a pair of oven mitts or at least a thick towel to take them out with. After searching the cabinets without success, I looked up and saw Link’s thick leather gauntlets hanging up with the cast iron kitchenware. Ah, so this is why he hung those up there. As I tried to reach them I appreciated how tall Link was; he had hung them up only just out of my reach. I stood on the very tips of my right toes and pushed myself up slightly on the counter, my right hand outstretched. My arm brushed against a cast iron pan barely hung on the tip of a nail, and I realized with horror what was about to happen, and yelled “Oh, fuck,” just seconds before it fell through the air and crashed onto the counter with a deafening BOOM.

    Behind me, Link jerked awake and shouted incoherently about enemies and a surprise attack. I turned around just in time to see the shirtless man attempt to jump to his feet in a defensive stance before THUMP. His head slammed into the ceiling, knocking him back down as he yelled “ARGHH” and let out a string of swears. I ignored the pain in my ankle as I rushed over to his loft, wide-eyed and already rambling apologies. “Oh my sweet Hylia, Link I am so sorry I really didn’t mean to knock that pan down Farore is your head okay I really…” I stopped mid-sentence as Link looked down at me, eyes watering in pain and clutching the top of his head. Drawing in breath, he gasped out in a concerned voice, “Are you okay?” “What?” I replied in disbelief and let out a humorless laugh, “Goodness Link, you just slammed your head on the ceilin’, and yer asking if I’m okay?” Link mumbled something inaudible, and he dizzily clambered down from the loft, one calloused hand still rubbing his head. I felt a strong pang of guilt and pity, and said in a soft voice, “Poor baby, what a way to wake up…” Without thinking I reached up and pat and rubbed his head. Link looked at me in surprise but nonetheless bent his head a little to make it easier for me to reach his crown. His golden hair was unimaginably soft and fine, and I thought to myself that would happily spend a few hours just playing within it. But within a few seconds I consciously registered what I was doing and jerked my hand away quickly, now aware of my blushing cheeks and racing heart.

    I looked to the side and covered my mouth with one hand, the other clutching at my chest as my body bent in a concave posture. I spoke quietly and with embarrassment. “I’m real sorry… I really didn’t mean to knock that pan down. I was just looking for somethin’ to take the muffins out of the oven with...” Link’s face was blank for a second as he was clearly still disoriented, but suddenly comprehension dawned over him and he asked with a cheery smile, “Oh, is that what that good smell is?” Now I felt thrown off. Was he not angry, or even a little bit annoyed with me? Apparently, he was not; he walked over to the counter and easily took down the gauntlets I had tried so disastrously to reach, simultaneously replacing the fallen pan more securely onto its hook. He glanced back over me with yet another sunny grin and said, “I got it!” He put the gauntlets on and opened the oven, removing the muffin pan. He placed the pan of golden brown pastries on top of the stove, grinning a little wider. I was a little surprised to see that he knew to check to see if the muffins were done by lightly tapping the tops. They sprung back nicely, and he looked back over at me still cheerily grinning.

    “Did you make these?” he asked. I subconsciously put my hand back over my mouth and looked down. “Yeah, I mean I woke up pretty early this morning and got hungry, and I figured if we were gonna hafta eat anyways it wouldn’t matter if I used whatever was in the cabinet…” Link responded with kind cheer, “They look delicious! Thanks, Sibela!” He continued eyeing me as I shuffled on my feet, unsure how to respond to the praise after I had just woken him by being such a klutz. He seemed to know what I was thinking as he softened his expression and said “And don’t worry about waking me up. Honestly it was a good thing you did, because otherwise I can easily sleep past noon. And then I wouldn’t have gotten to eat these while they’re still hot.” I smiled, finally feeling able to look at his face. And that’s when I registered that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. I had to stop myself from ogling his body’s smooth, fair skin and strong athletic build. Honestly, I didn’t care for huge guys, as I often felt intimidated by bulging muscles and hard physiques, but Link was different… perfect. His muscles weren’t the unnatural lumps created by protein shakes and benching, but a chiseled, efficient build crafted by a sculptor called physical labor, who knew where to strike the balance between tone and strength, and to leave just enough softness behind to keep the body limber. Yes, Link sent a clear signal of both strength and skill, and although I imagined that he could be intimidating if he wanted to be, that he gave no sense of fixation or pride in his power made me feel rather secure and comforted to know he was around. I knew it wasn’t a strength that he would use to make himself dominant, and thus there was no contention with my biggest insecurity: my sense of self-empowerment.

    Snapping back to reality, I replied “Err, yeah. Hope you like ‘em.” Link only smiled in reply, and he took a butter knife and began running it around the edges of the muffins, loosening them from the pan. “They’ll still need a few minutes to cool,” I advised, and plopped down at one of the kitchen chairs. “Yeah, I gotcha,” he acknowledged in a friendly tone. He stepped outside the house, still rubbing his head, but after a few moments (was that the sound of him peeing?) he walked back in whistling. He opened a trunk beneath the loft and pulled out a cream V-neck tank top, which he pulled over his head. He then put around his waist a strange blue garment similar to a wide hitoe obi, but very short. He fastened it not by tying the garment itself, but by tying a thin orange sash around it. Unusual, but cute. It must be a traditional outfit.

    Link looked up and noticed I had been watching him dress. I quickly looked away and said “Sorry.” “For what?” Link replied, looking perplexed. I looked at him with an eyebrow raised. He was wearing an innocent, politely confused expression. “Umm, nothin’,” I mumbled as I looked away in embarrassment. He shrugged and walked back over to the kitchenette, where he picked up the cooled pan of muffins and set it on the kitchen table. He also took out two plates and a basket of apples and put these on the table. Finally, he poured goat’s milk into two jars and wordlessly placed one in front of me. He drained almost half of the other in a single gulp before he even sat down. I smiled in amusement and then looked at the table, grabbing the first hot muffin from the pan and an apple.

    The first bite into the almost-too-hot-to-eat muffin was pure bliss. The sweet, spongy body was punctuating by a juicy burst as I bit into a blueberry. Ah, this was heaven, I thought and closed my eyes while chewing. When I opened them, I saw Link staring down at a half-eaten muffin in his hand, chewing with a bizarre expression on his face. I was filled with apprehension; had the goat’s milk made them taste bad? But then Link aggressively stuffed the whole other half of the muffin in his mouth and chewed with an expression of pure pleasure on his face. He snatched at another muffin and devoured most of it before he had even swallowed the first one. I watched in amazement as he grabbed another, and then another. By the time the pan was half-finished I had abandoned my own breakfast in favor of observing him with an amazed and amused grin, my hand resting on my chin. Link suddenly noticed that I had been watching him eat (more like furiously consume), and his azurite eyes once again pierced my own. I let out a little laugh and asked, “Well are they good?” Mouth full of food, he replied “brst tihgvr eetn,” and I broke into a rich laugh, putting my elbows on the table and resting my forehead against my hands as I continued to chortle. Then I heard Link say with a hint of embarrassment “Sorry… I said it’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” I uncovered my face and put one hand on my cheek as I tilted my head slightly to one side, still grinning and attempting to stifle my laughter “I can see that. I mean… sorry, I just… well ya looked funny,” and I closed my eyes in another silent fit of mirth. I opened my eyes and added in a warm tone “Really am glad you like ‘em though,” and I helped myself to another muffin. Link only smiled and looked down, cheeks still rosy. But after a few seconds his face dropped in a troubled frown. I furrowed my brow and asked, “What is it?” Well actually that wasn’t any of my business, and I thought maybe I shouldn’t have said something. But the cat was out of the bag, and either way most of the time when people are asked that they just respond with “Nothing,” whether it’s really nothing or not.

    But that’s not what Link said. He looked at me with an intense, steeled expression. “I don’t think you should leave today.” I knitted my brows tighter; oh, so you think you can tell me what to do now? My temper rose in an instant and I responded angrily, “Well tough. I’m leavin’.” I slammed my palms on the table and stood up in a huff, wobbling a little. Come on Sibela, now wasn’t the time to appear feeble. Rather than get angry in return, Link quietly stared me down with the same intense facial expression, but his eyes softened. I huffed over to the couch, grimacing as I forced myself to put weight on my broken ankle, and slung my painfully heavy bag of books over my good shoulder. “Thanks for the night’s stay. Keep the leftover food. That’s my payment,” I grumbled shortly as I began heading for the door.

    Link spoke, “Why are you trying so hard?” I stopped, turned around, and stared at him, raising an eyebrow. “Why are you trying so hard?” he repeated. His voice wasn’t angry, or accusatory. It was gentle and concerned. I guarded myself anyway. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout,” I huffed, trying to keep my composure as I turned and grabbed the doorknob. “I think you do,” he simply said. I turned around yet again, my heart racing. Are we really going to do this, person I barely know, Mr. Guy-I-barely-know, man who saved my life, pair of azurite eyes, piercing me, probably impossible to forget?

    I opened my mouth to retort, but my words stuck in my throat. My lower lip quivered. Link continued, “Why would you go traipsing across a dangerous field you don’t even know on a broken ankle? You said you aren’t even going anywhere in particular. So why is it so urgent to leave today?” I really didn’t have an answer to that. Anyway, how did he know I wasn’t familiar with Hyrule field? Rather than answer his question, I crossed my arms and asked, “Well why is it so damn urgent for you to make me stay here?” It was Link’s turn to be lost for words, and he blushed red. That blush threw me off; I really hadn’t even thought his reason might be  _that_ , and the thought made my own cheeks flush. But after an awkward silence, finally he said, “Look, I just don’t think you should be wandering about injured. What if you got attacked again? If that happened then what was the point of saving you in the first place?” I grumpily replied, “Well thanks for the sentiment, but I’m no freeloader.” Shit, I didn’t mean to let that last bit slip. Now that he knew why I was trying to hightail it out of his house, he could use that as a weapon.

    I tried to head out the door before he could do so, but in half a second he had already bounded across the room and placed a strong hand on my shoulder. He wasn’t grabbing or holding, and he didn’t try to close the door; it was just a touch. “How about we make a deal then?” I turned and look at him, halfway outside but feeling locked in place by that gentle contact. I furrowed my brow again; what the hell was he talking about? “Would you stay and cook and keep the house clean for me?” he asked. I stared at him blankly, considering his suggestion. Room and board in exchange for domestic services? After a few silent, tense moments I begrudgingly admitted, “Well, that’s an idea.”

    Link’s face was swept by a wave of… relief? He continued, “I mean, not as a permanent thing. Just until your ankle heals at least. How long do you think that’ll take?” I paused for a moment before answering, “Most stable fractures of the ankle will heal by 6 weeks, but are at elevated risk of re-breaking for up to several months.” Link raised an eyebrow. “6 weeks,” I said shortly. Link smiled, “So until then, would you keep on making delicious pastries and cleaning up after dinner? And in return you get three meals a day and can sleep on the couch.” I guess that sounded fair. At that point, I finally admitted to myself that I didn’t want to leave in the first place, and realized that part of me had been hoping something like this would happen. My irrational anger was subsiding just as quickly as it had rose. I looked into his face and once again was struck by how pretty, delicate, and just a little wild it was. And those eyes, so full of vitality, sparkling and bubbling like a forest spring... Link brushed aside one of the adorable locks hanging by his face. In a very strange way, that’s what did it. “Alright, fine. I accept.”

    Link’s face lit up with a truly joyous grin and he actually jumped a little, clapping his hands. Did I just see the Hero do a happy dance? “But there’s still gonna be a lot I can’t do on this ankle. The more I put weight on it the longer it’ll take to heal. I still don’t wanna stay longer than I absolutely got to,” I warned, and added “There are some folks that I’m lookin’ for.” “Oh,” Link replied quizzically, cocking his head to one side. He smiled again and said, “Well maybe they’ll find you while you’re staying here.” I smiled in return, but felt a pang in my heart, “I hope so.”

    Link glanced over my shoulder at the rising sun, and his eyes widened. “Oh crap, I have to be at work soon.” He skipped over to the table and grabbed another muffin before picking up the bucket from the counter in one hand. “I’m gonna get you some water before I leave!” And with that he was out the door. I heard a thump as he evidently decided using the ladder would take too much time. I stuck my head out the door and watched him jog down the path towards the spring we passed yesterday.

    I walked back inside and sat down; I had tried to leave without finishing my breakfast. I attempted to sort out in my head what had just happened. So, I wasn’t going to leave and likely get myself killed. I was going to stay in this cozy little house with the most attractive man I’ve ever seen. I blushed as this last part crossed my mind, and it struck me that as Hero of Hyrule Link probably got all kinds of admirers. He had acted so… normal, I hadn’t really thought of him as “the Hero.” He was just an exceptionally kind guy I met yesterday, and I felt a certain disconnect between the sunny, good-natured personality that Link had shown and the image of a powerful warrior persona the Gorons had painted for me when they told me his story. An ancient evil had tried to use another realm to eclipse Hyrule before being defeated by the reincarnation of a legendary hero known in Hyrule since time immemorial. But there was a fierceness in him nonetheless; his insistence that I stay at his house was evidence of his determined spirit. And then there was that he didn’t strictly need someone to perform domestic chores for him, and there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in Hell he was attracted to me (I blushed again at that thought), so his only motivation was that he didn’t want me to get myself hurt or killed. He didn’t hesitate to attack those Bokoblins when my life was threatened, he didn’t hesitate to give me shelter when I had nowhere else to go, and now he didn’t hesitate to persuade me to stay when he felt my life was still in danger. He had done all that and only asked me to look after his house in return, and he probably wouldn’t have requested even that if he hadn’t perceived that I would have left otherwise.

    And he was right that I was trying too hard. I was always like this when people were nice; melting with gratitude on the inside but harder than tempered steel on the outside. One of my favorite authors had once described this as being like a chestnut, covered with a tough spiky shell that’s incredibly difficult to peel, but once removed revealing a soft and silky core. I don’t fully understand why I’m like that, only that I’m desperately afraid of being seen as weak or incompetent. And now that I thought about it, Link probably saw me as just that, like a damsel in distress.

    This thought spurred me to my feet. If I didn’t want to be seen as helpless, I needed to start being productive now. In under a minute the remainder of the muffins were covered in a basket and the apples were back in the cabinet. I folded the wolf blanket and hung it neatly over the back of the couch. I picked up Link’s pillow and took it over to the loft. I threw the pillow onto the bedding and pulled myself up the ladder, and was immediately struck by the overwhelming aroma of Link. My heart skipped a beat, but I was intent on the task at hand. In under a minute the sheet was tucked over the thick heather bedding with the corners in a neat hospital tuck, the old quilt was likewise spread without a crease, and the smoothed and fluffed pillows were placed neatly at the head.

    A whistling alerted me that Link had returned, and he walked in just as I dropped down onto my good ankle, steadying myself against the ladder. He was carrying a bucket of water on his head, but bounded effortlessly over to the counter. He looked up at the loft and cheerily exclaimed, “Hey, you already made up the bed! Thanks.” “Yeah, no problem,” I sheepishly scratched my head. My hair felt extremely oily beneath my fingers. I absentmindedly sighed, “I sure wish I could take a bath.” “Oh,” Link said brightly, “Sorry, I should have thought about that. Do you remember that spring we passed yesterday?” “Yeah,” I replied. “That’s the spring of the light spirit Ordona. If you wade out a little bit and look to the left, there’s a crevice in the rocks. Slip through it and there’s a really nice cave pool in there. It’s pretty private and the water is clean.” I questioned, “And Ordona won’t mind me bathin’ there?” At this Link grinned, “Nah, Ordona is really great. Actually, they’re pretty interested in meeting you, so maybe you’ll get to talk to them.” “What?” Link rambled on, apparently not hearing me, “Also I have shampoo and stuff in the cabinet beneath the bucket and you can eat whatever you find in the kitchenette. I’ll bring more milk home from work today. I’m heading out now! Oh yeah, there’s a map of the Ordona province in my desk. I work at Ordon Ranch. It should be marked on the map, so if you need anything come and find me. I’ll see you sometime later this afternoon.” He looked over at me suddenly, and a serious look crossed his face. “You will still be here, right?” I stared and then shook myself, “What? Oh, yeah, of course.” “Promise?” “Uh, sure.” “Great,” Link said and his face returned to its usual grin. “See ya!” He waved and was out the door, another muffin in his hand. I looked over at the bookshelf and saw his boots and a pair of sandals. I hastily grabbed both and stuck my head out the door. “Link, you ‘bout forgot your shoes!” I called just as he was about to disappear around a path to the right of the house. He turned around, still jogging in place. “Oh yeah! Can you throw me my sandals?” I tossed down the large pair of strappy sandals, not unlike my own. He caught them in one hand and called “Thanks! See you later,” and he disappeared around the corner without even putting them on his feet. Was he running that late or something?

    I stepped back in the house and first soaked a rag to wipe the counters with; experience had taught me not to wait for the dishwater to become dirty. I set this aside and went to work on the dishes. Setting them upside-down to dry, I picked up the first rag and scrubbed down the counters and table. Spotting an old-fashioned straw broom in the corner, I started sweeping in the back corner of the house, careful navigating underneath the furniture and bringing it towards the door. The pile of dust and crumbs had built to an impressive side by the time I was finished. How long had it been since Link had swept? Not finding a dustpan, I pushed the pile out the door. While I was out there I swept up the stump surface, and finally pushed the pile over the edge.

    I hobbled back inside, returned the broom to the corner, and collapsed on the couch. Now that I wasn’t moving, I was thinking again. Six weeks of cooking and cleaning for Link, and in return I get regular meals and somewhere to sleep. And my landlord was about as sunny and easy to get along with as they come. I smiled to myself. This was going to be so nice. And maybe my family would find me, like Link said. Maybe I’d be easier to catch sitting in one place for a while. But something was nagging at me. Why had I never heard of Hyrule before? Judging by the time I had travelled, surely it wasn’t that far from Termina. Yet thinking back to my earliest geography lessons as a child, I had never once heard the name Hyrule. And then there were those strange woods I had passed through… I tried to remember the details of that segment of my journey. But all that I recalled was a blur of confusion and distress. A strange possibility occurred to me. Was it possible that I had hopped worlds? Improbable as it seemed, it would account for the gap in my memory and how I could go through life unaware of an entire neighboring kingdom. Nor were such phenomena unheard of; every child in Termina grew up hearing the tale of a young boy who travelled between worlds and through time to save the kingdom from our greatest peril. We even put on a dramatic reenactment of the story each year at the festival, where as a child I had played a fairy named Tatl. Furthermore, if I had hopped worlds, that would explain why Ordona was interested in meeting me.

    I stood up. There was only one way to find out for sure. I found a towel, washcloth, shampoo, and soap in the cabinet Link had specified, and set out for Ordona’s spring.

 

    *****

 

    The cave spring was pure luxury. The deliciously cool water seemed to soothe my aches and pains the moment I sunk into its crystal-clear depths. The water was only knee-deep, but this made it all the better for stretching out, rubbing my calloused feet across the stone bottom. Tiny minnows nibbled my toes, a beetle or two bustled across the moss covered raised bank where I had left my clothes and towel, and a glistening spider’s web stretched across one corner, its patient inhabitant quietly awaiting a meal. It was truly a peaceful place; it never ceases to amaze me how even the loneliest places still teem with life. Even this small round hollow, really no bigger than 3 meters across and 3 meters tall, seemed to contain its own ecosystem. I found myself thinking about what a romantic spot it was… it’d be an ideal place to make love (with Link)  _no brain what the hell why are you even going there?_

    Shaking myself, I waded over to a spot where a water vein poured from the ceiling, generating ripples through the spring. I sighed contentedly as I scooped a generous palmful of the shampoo from its jar and massaged it from the roots of my hair down to the tips, lathering it heavily. It had been so long since I had washed my hair, and I knew it wouldn’t easily relinquish the oils it had acquired. I rubbed the soap onto the washcloth and scrubbed vigorously until my skin turned pink, taking particular care on my face, especially the crevices around my nose and round ears. I stepped beneath the natural shower and was filled with bliss as the cleansing water ran over my skin, rinsing away the lathered suds. I worked my fingers through my hair and aggressively massaged my scalp as the shampoo was washed away. When all the suds were gone I inspected my hair and was surprised to find it was completely clean; usually I had to shampoo it two or three times, especially at the crown and along my hairline.

    I felt like a new person as I pushed myself onto the raised bank, wringing my long hair before towel drying myself and redressing, finally rewrapping my right arm in fresh bandages. I would wait until I was out of the spring before re-splinting my ankle. I clung to the cave wall as I walked myself through the crevice in the rocks and into the warm sunlight. It was a beautiful day and Ordona’s spring was nothing short of idyllic, but I nonetheless felt apprehensive. I had to try to speak with the light spirit.

    “Ordona?” I called timidly towards the falls. There was no answer. I tried again “Ordona, are you here? I really need to speak with you if I may…” Still no response. I called louder, more urgently, “Please Ordona, it’s imperative that I ask you somethin’.” I sunk to my knees in the ankle-deep water as the spring remained quiet, and hot tears were forming in my eyes. Just as I covered my face and began to hiccup, a deep voice rumbled, “Be still, child, I am here.” I looked up hopefully, but saw nothing. “Ordona?” I asked in confusion. “Yes, young one. Didst thou wish to speak with me?” the disembodied voice answered. It had a kind, paternal tone to it, and I knew it had to be the light spirit. My heart rose to my throat as I begged, “Ordona please, I need to know. Everything’s been so strange and I feel like part of me might be losin’ it. Is it true Ordona? Have I hopped worlds?” The soothing voice seemed to sigh, “It would seem so, dear.” I had expected that answer, but was shocked nonetheless. “Just like the kid hero?” I asked in awe. “Aye, and it would seem by the same path at that. Dost thou not remember how thou arrived in Hyrule?” I furrowed my brow in deep thought. “I’ve been tryin’ to, but all I recall is scattered images and a sense of distress. I remember Clock Town was attacked, and I fled into the basement of the tower. There was a weird place there, I ain’t got the foggiest idea what it looks like now… I think I was in a forest of sorts, and was chased by... somethin’. Next thing I know I’m in the middle of another woods, I think here in Hyrule, terrified out of my wits. It took me weeks of wanderin’ ‘round before I started to think clearly about where I was and what to do. I had been travelin’ around for a while anyway, so I thought maybe I had blacked out somewhere in Termina. I thought I saw a mountain in the distance so I started to head north. After a while I realized I wasn’t anywhere near Termina and well… I’m sorry, you probably already know this part.” “Indeed, Sibela.” Ah, so the light spirit knew my name. I realized they must have been watching me since I arrived in Hyrule. But confirming how I had arrived in Hyrule was only part of why I needed to speak to Ordona. I began again urgently, “But Ordona, surely you’re aware of what’s happening in Termina. Who else has found Hyrule? What about my family, my sister, anybody? How am I supposed to go back? What’s gonna-” “Be still, child, and I will tell thee what I know,” Ordona cut me off. “As of yet, thou art the only one to find the path to Hyrule. No one has followed thee.” My heart sank. “But that is not the primary issue at hand. An evil has been released in Termina.” Well sure, what else could have caused four peacefully coexisting races to suddenly start warring amongst each other? Ordona seemed to know what I was thinking. “This evil is not of the usual sort; it seems to be of the same kind that nearly brought the moon crashing upon thy peaceful realm, all those years ago.” My eyes widened. “Thy ability to enter Hyrule suggests that this evil may well be able to do the same. It is also possible that it was events in Hyrule that triggered the awakening of this evil. Much is yet unknown to the light spirits who protect this land.”

    “But what about Termina?” I asked in concern. “It’s not like we have an ancient hero. Our own protective spirits are already doin’ everythin’ they can, and yet the temples have already been cursed and the four races continue to rip each other apart. The death toll is mounting every second, soon there won’t be anything or anybody left, and I don’t even know where my family is. They could be alive somewhere, maybe they’re dead, maybe they’re lost, I… I…” Tears choked me here and I covered my face. I couldn’t go on. Ordona’s voice was rich with sympathy when he replied, “Nay, Sibela, Termina has no hero. But Hyrule does.” I peeked between my fingers at the still empty spring. “The child hero thou spoke of… hailed from the land of Hyrule. This land carries an ancient history, cycling through the many reincarnations of a noble princess and valiant hero, who awaken and rise to save this land in her darkest hours. The valiant hero’s most recent reincarnation…” “You don’t mean Link?” I blurted out. The Gorons said something about this, but at this time I passed it off as the rich imaginings of local peoples. “Aye, the Hero Chosen by the Gods, holder of the Triforce of Courage.” This was unbelievable. I didn’t doubt that Link was a hero of this time… but to be part of an ongoing legend? Ordona continued, “Link hath already expressed a willingness to save thy people, though he does not know the extent of the threat over Termina. For now, we must ascertain the nature of Termina and Hyrule’s connection, the nature of the evil threatening thy land, and the role our hero must play.” I cried out, “But hold on! Why is it Link’s responsibility? Why’s he gotta endanger himself?” Ordona replied firmly, “That is the destiny carried by all of Hyrule’s heroes, to rise against the darkest of forces and preserve the sanctity of the gods’ creations. But destiny or no, dost thou believe Link would be content to see thy world crumble?” I remembered the sound of Link’s glowing sword cleaving a Bokoblin seconds before it was to bring its club down on my skull. No, he wouldn’t be content to stay complacent. He was selfless without hesitation, and could not rest while he felt another life was in danger. Just one day had been enough to prove that to me.                        

    After a long silence, I finally spoke again. “And what about me? What do I need to do for now? I can’t kick back and do nothin’ while my family is in danger, lettin’ Link do the dirty work. It’s my land, my responsibility.” Ordona responded, “The role thou must play is yet unclear, although I do not believe it coincidence that thou art the only Terminian to find Hyrule, nor that thou found the company of the Hero. For now, I entreat thee. Stay in the Hero’s company. Allow him to protect thee. Thou clearly hast a sharp mind and quick eye, and must verily use those traits to protect him in return. The doors between Termina and Hyrule will be thrown open soon. Stay wary; thou shalt know when is the time to act. Dost thou trust these instructions?” Trust? That was a weird choice of words, even by Ordona’s standards. I also didn’t understand how I was supposed to protect Link with my mind; why would a legendary hero need protection anyway? But the gist was that Ordona wanted me to stay close to Link and hang tight until the light spirits find out what’s going on and give further instructions. “Yes, I understand,” I finally said. “Excellent,” Ordona replied, “Stay alert, Sibela.” “Of course,” I acknowledged, and then added, “Thank you for speakin’ with me Ordona. Really, thank you for your help.” Ordona replied in a warm tone, “It is but my duty. Now, dost thou not have tasks to attend to at Link’s dwelling?” I smiled, recognizing the dismissal. I waded out of the spring, dried my feet, re-splinted my ankle, and set off back down the path to Link’s house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I'm not sure if/when I will continue this work.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also on DeviantArt!
> 
> https://drbadassphd.deviantart.com/


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